Ok, so my four weeks in group therapy are up. A month. It seemed like a year. For real. And yesterday when I did my post-test, the shrink showed me how fucked up my pre-test was. Boy was I freaking the hell out. Oh well. So now on to upkeep once a week.
And that's actually worrying. You know, therapy feels like a safety net. With all those people in the room, who help you stay away from ruminating, who help you get out of tunnel vision, who help you be positive, who give you advise so you don't behave like an asshole. All that jazz. I really liked it. And I really liked the people in my group. One of them gave me a little thing she made herself. Another one baked the muffins I had been dodging her for for days. It was very nice of them. And it made me sad. These people know more shit about me that many people (well, barring the people who sometimes read my rants online, who also get an eyeful of freaky once in a while) and at the end of these four weeks I felt really close to them. After looking at someone that closely and hearing them admit their fucked-up ways, you can't help but relate.
We had all been to hell and back and again. And that creates a certain link between you and those people. I'll try to stay in touch. Hopefully, once they finish their therapy next week, they'll come to the upkeep group. And then we can go out to dinner or lunch again. Heh.
And I managed to be discharged and not being prescribed Prozac or some shit like that. I am taking something, though. Homeopathic and all. It kind of reminds me of my grandma's remedies. I am taking Artentum nitricum and Ignatia amara for the stress (that leads me to depression) and Coffea cruda to help me sleep. And either it is the placebo effect or because they work for real, I'm feeling a little bit more ... stable? Not that I've ever been stable, but you get my drift.
Because apparently weekends are NOT GOOD for me. I start a slow spiral on Friday and by Sunday I'm a little bit agitated. Don't ask me why. I don't have the slightest fucking idea. I guess it's the way my mind works and after being paying attention to classes all week on Friday I kind of don't have that focus and my demons come pick at me. Hopefully that pattern will change next week, when my Boo's back. At last.
But I'm not letting them get away with murder. At least not easily. I have my yoga and I have those little pills that may or may not be helping. But I'm managing better. And that's what counts.
P.S. Thanks to all of you out there (you know who you are). Your words are always cherished...